


Sleeping Beauty

by therobotjay



Series: I Would Give You The Stars [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, I Love Anders (Dragon Age), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therobotjay/pseuds/therobotjay
Summary: Anders has overworked himself. Again.





	Sleeping Beauty

Hawke rolled over, reaching out one arm, uncoordinated and sleepy. His hand landed on something warm and he smiled for half a moment before it reached his brain that _this_ warm, hairy thing was _not_ his boyfriend and was, in fact, a cat.

The cat, Ser Pounce-a-lot the Second, took exception to this treatment and clawed the everloving shit out of his hand.

Cussing, Hawke yanked his hand away, cradling it against his chest. Pouncy glared for a moment, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, then went back to sleep.

Where the hell was Anders?

Hawke hauled himself out of bed, noting blearily that it was the middle of the night. With a snap of his fingers, he conjured a small, floating wisp of flame to light his way and went looking for his missing boyfriend. The hardwood floor underneath his feet was cold. The empty side of his bed was cold. Pulling his pyjamas closer around himself, grumbling, Hawke padded barefoot through his estate.

The entry hall was empty. Both Bodahn and Sandal were surely asleep. Hawke knew where Anders was likely to be so he turned his steps toward the study.

Any harsh words that may have been waiting on his tongue died the moment he opened the door.

Anders was slumped over his desk, head propped on his forearm, sound asleep. A smudge of ink marred his sharp nose. Sandy hair, half-escaped from its tie, hung in his face, fluttering slightly with every breath.

Hawke’s eyes stung, his chest ached. Silently, he gave thanks to the Maker. He didn’t know what he’d done, exactly, to deserve his amazing, passionate, insane Anders. But he was thankful.

Carefully, he approached the sleeping healer. Anders startled easily, especially when he was asleep, and Hawke didn’t especially want to catch a lightning bolt to the face.

Again.

As gently as possible, he pushed Anders’ soft hair away from his face, caressing his cheek.

“Anders?”

A soft mumble of nonsense was all he received in return. The poor man really was out cold. He had been working long hours at the clinic in the wake of the Qunari attack, then coming home to work on his manifesto for hours into the night. Anders had been burning the candle on both ends for so long that it had finally caught up with him.

Hawke moved the ink pot, capping it and placing it safely on a nearby bookshelf. Then, with a grunt, he hefted Anders, cradling him like an over-large child.

While the healer was tall, certainly, and broad-shouldered for his build, without a doubt, life had rung him out. He was easy enough for Hawke to carry.

Anders mumbled something in his sleep and smiled that little half-smile that had been turning Hawke’s heart into a puddle for years.

The stairs were a bit more difficult. Walking while holding another person was tricky enough. Hawke’s thighs were burning by the time he reached the top of the stairs.

Like he could sense the precariousness of the situation, Pouncy came pelting out of the bedroom and careened into Hawke’s legs, nearly sending both him and Anders tumbling.

Biting back his curses, not wanting to wake Anders, Hawke shooed the cat away with his foot and made haste to the bedroom. There, he balanced awkwardly on one leg so he could kick the opposite foot up on the bed and pull the blankets down with his toes.

Slowly and with as much gentleness as he could, Hawke laid Anders on his side of the bed. He was just thankful that the healer had changed into comfortable clothes before setting to work on his manifesto. Getting him out of the feathered pauldrons and coat while he was asleep would’ve been a nightmare.

Satisfied, Hawke bit back a yawn and climbed back into bed. Immediately, Anders rolled and squirmed, pulling close to the other man’s warmth and putting his cold feet on Hawke’s.

Sighing, rolling his eyes, Hawke wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, pulling him closer, cozying the blanket up around Anders’ shoulders. Whisper-soft, he kissed the smudge of ink on the healer’s nose.

He would do anything for Anders. Ice cold feet in the middle of the night were nothing.


End file.
